As he sprinted along the pavement, Alex muttered curses on his scatter-brained mother and his prim, nosy little sister. He was late for school again, and it really wasn’t his fault. Maybe he should have set his alarm for a little bit earlier, but surely every normal boy could count on his mother making him toast without burning it in the morning? Surely nobody else had a little sister who screamed that her shoelace was undone until their mum abandoned them to provide for themselves? It was times like this he missed having a dad; his own had died before he was born. Slowing to a walk, the breath heaving in his lungs, Alex glared at the dreary school building in front of him, giving a sigh of defeat as he pushed open the heavy side door and slipped into the darkness of Silvia Davies High School. Like most of his fellow pupils, he had no idea who Silvia Davies was, or why the school was named after her, but he had come to loathe that clean plastic smell that clung to the walls and the bright, cheerful writing that greeted the eyes as soon as one glanced at the gleaming bronze plaque stationed dutifully outside every door.
Still grumbling to himself, Alex navigated his way through the subdued year seven students milling about looking lost, the occasional elbow needed to reinforce his greater height and age. Finally arriving at his locker, he took a moment to absorb the regulation steel door, formerly bent out of shape but restored to perfection over the long summer holiday. Twisting the lock until it popped open, he forced the grave, coffin-like door open until he could dump his heavy bag on the shelf provided. As an older student, he had the privilege of a full-sized locker complete with small shelf-space and a hook for whatever garment he chose to shed. Giving another resigned sigh, he gathered an armful of books and kicked the locker closed, the door giving a protesting squeak before it clanged with a satisfyingly loud crash against its frame, the lock clicking firmly into place.
Locating the familiar door that led to his form room, he took a fortifying breath and shouldered the heavy door open. Deliberately staring straight ahead, he slumped into a spare seat at the back of the class; ignoring the prickle of his skin that told him more than one pair of eyes had turned to him, he sank deeper into his hard plastic seat. Reluctantly raising his eyes, he met the teacher’s angry glare and held it, suddenly feeling his short temper rising. It wasn’t his fault he was late, so why did she have to make his morning worse by looking at him like he was a bit of chewing gum stuck to her shoe? Finally the teacher, a stern-looking, older woman with cold eyes named Mrs Blackman, wrinkled her nose and spoke.
“Is there a reason for this tardiness, Alexander?”
Giving an irritable shake of the head, Alex redoubled the savagery of his glare. Nobody, not even grouchy, forgetful Mr Williams who had taught him last year, called him Alexander. As his sister Mischa was always informing him loftily, in her childish lisp, it was an awkward, common name. It made him sound like nothing special. He hated that. Surprised that ice didn’t fall from his lips with the words, he finally replied, cutting off the teacher just as she began to rail at him.
“Yeah. Mum burned the toast and my alarm clock’s not loud enough.”
As the rest of the class tittered and gasped at his daring, he closed his ears to the tirade that his response had set loose, tuning out the furious voice made shrill by wrath. When Mrs Blackman’s cracked tones faded from his consciousness, he turned boredom-glazed eyes on her and grunted a ‘What?’ in her general direction, just to see what would happen. Contrary to his prediction, he saw her stiffen for a moment before the rage in her eyes faded and her flushed cheeks returned to their usual sallow yellow. Her voice was cold and blank.
“I was just saying that perhaps you can think about ways to remedy these problems in detention. I will see you there after school tomorrow evening. Now, as I was saying before Master Alexander decided to interrupt…”
By the end of the morning, Alex was bored and in a perfectly vile mood. When the usual crowd of twittering girls and swaggering boys approached him, he growled at them under his breath and they retreated, wide-eyed and laughing nervously about his obvious PMT problem, and wasn’t there something he wanted to tell them? Glowering from under his eyebrows, he merely gestured rudely at them and swung around, marching blindly forward. The next moment he had crashed headlong into someone coming the other way, sending him staggering backwards and the other person lurching into the lockers that lined the walls like gravestones.
“Um, sorry. Are you alright?”
The voice belonged to the other party in the collision. Regaining his balance, he turned on his heel to face the owner of the disembodied voice, harsh words ready to lash from his tongue. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out as he gawped. He’d never before seen the girl who stood looking at him from her position leaning unsteadily against the lockers, so he assumed she was new to the school. She had pale skin the colour of new cream, a slender body with miles of legs and a face that belonged to an angel. Huge, dark brown eyes stared up at him, loose curls of rich chocolate-brown hair falling over her shoulders. A gentleman would have blamed the crash on himself, blushing and offering muttered apologies. Alex, however, was no gentleman, just your average eighteen year old boy. He just stared as her full lips turned down in a pout that he found positively cute, before he was snatched from his contemplation of her mouth as she poked him in the shoulder. Hard.
“I said, are you okay?”
Clearing his throat he gave a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, fine. You?”
“Fine, you know, except for the huge bruise that I’m going to have now! Thanks a lot. Watch where you’re going next time.”
With that and a final parting scowl she turned and was gone in a whirl of dark hair and rose-scented perfume. Stunned and still gazing blankly into the space she had occupied, it took Alex a long moment to recover his composure. A determination spread through him like a fire licking along his veins. He would find out who she was, where she had come from and, most importantly, whether she liked him or not. Nodding confidently to himself, he didn’t notice the next female face that was abruptly shoved close to his until he almost walked into its owner. I really do need to watch where I’m going, he thought ruefully until wincing as a sudden shrill voice sought to split his head in two.
“Hi Alex! I’ve been waiting for you for ages! Let’s go and have lunch.”
The next thing he knew, he was being forcibly dragged down the hall by one arm, Samantha Loring’s grip almost leaving bruises. Just before they reached the cafeteria, Alex rallied his strength and dug in his heels, gritting his teeth against the laughter of those who walked past them. Snatching his arm away, he glared at the girl who was smiling eerily wide, showing overlapping front teeth and a chapped, sore-looking pair of lips. He wasn’t a cruel person by nature, but there was no denying that she was ugly.
Platinum blonde hair that could have been a breathtaking asset was scraped back in a low, greasy ponytail. Narrow blue eyes squinted out at him from behind glasses which magnified their size until she looked remarkably similar to some kind of bug. A wide nose took up most of her face, giving the overall impression of a Rudolph kind of character. She was a fair bit taller than him, with long, chunky legs and a short body, giving her a gawky air of uncoordinated youth. Since he’d first met her two years ago, it was obvious that she’d had a crush on him; sadly, he still hadn’t been able to make her understand that he was definitely not interested.
“What the hell do you think your doing?” He demanded angrily.
“Well, you said you’d have lunch with me, so let’s go in.” She replied, still giving him that disconcerting grin.
“No, I didn’t. You asked me and then dragged me down here by the arm.” Alex replied coldly. The grin dimmed slightly.
“Oh, so you don’t want to have lunch with me?”
“No.”
The next moment he was seized by the arm yet again. “Great! Let’s go!”
Struggling until his arm was free of her clutching fingers, he massaged his temples with one hand. Watching her wide, puppy-dog eyes and downright painful smile, he decided to change his tactics. Suddenly he frowned, hesitantly reaching for his bag. Unzipping it, he began hastily rifling through the contents until he gave a half-snarl, half-sigh of exasperation. Looking up at Samantha, he shrugged.
“Forgotten my lunch. Go sit inside, I’ll meet you in there.”
She blinked slowly at him, before beaming again. “Okay! See you in there, Alex!”
As soon as she was out of sight, he fastened the zip on his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder and raced headlong for the door that led into the school’s garden-like area. The older students were allowed to eat lunch there, though few did so. The first bit of the garden was neat and tidy, but the gardeners had seemed to have given up on the very back edges. The plants grew wildly, intertwined with weeds, reaching over the paths to brush against the legs of wanderers. A small, roughly carved wooden bench was surrounded by grass and thorny shrubs. Nobody dared go that far back, but Alex was desperate. Cautiously he made his way towards the seat, about to round the corner when he heard a shocked voice.
“I can’t do that! He’ll think I’m crazy.”
The female voice faded, though he heard snippets of fiercely whispered conversation. After a long few moments of silence, he heard a gasp and then a choked sound that sounded remarkably like a sob. Another splutter and he finally recognised the voice. It had belonged to the girl from earlier! Dropping his bag with a thud, he jumped round the corner, prepared to see her in tears. Instead he was greeted with the sight of her looking at him expectantly, her pale cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering with suppressed amusement. Her lips tightened for a moment before she burst out laughing, the merry sound chasing away all his fears. Waiting for her to get a grip on herself, he shifted slightly. Instantly she moved to block his view of the bench, sobering quickly. He shifted right again, only to find her directly in his line of view. Curious and wary, he frowned.
“It is alright, Mira. He will not reveal our secret.”
The musical voice did not come from the girl in front of him. It was a terrible sound, glorious and painful at once. He slapped his hands over his ears and dropped to his knees, hearing in the words the echo of a raging forest fire and the softness of the dawn. Shuddering, he waited for the reverberations to fade from his bones before gingerly removing his hands, rising to his feet. His ears were greeted with the sound of more laughter from the girl, Mira, as she watched him. Finally she managed to calm herself down enough to look at him seriously. He got the impression that she was sizing him up and felt a tingle of discomfort ripple through him. At last she spoke, her voice every bit as exquisite as he remembered, low and quiet.
“Alex, I’m going to show you something, but only if you promise me that you won’t tell anyone. If you do, I’m in a lot of trouble, understand?”
Alex nodded mutely. Taking a deep breath, Mira stepped aside. He stared, some disconnected part of his mind informing him that he’d been doing a lot of that today, and that maybe he’d forgotten to wake up this morning and was still dreaming. He pinched himself on the arm, blinking before looking back in the direction the young girl was patiently watching. A woman sat calmly on the bench, though he doubted she was indeed a woman.
Strawberry blonde hair dropped from her head to her waist, curling slightly at the ends. Large eyes regarded him softly, the irises a rich amber that warmed him to the core. Golden skin glowed softly with pale yellow light, giving the stranger an air of leashed power. She was tall and slender, her body covered only by a toga-like garment draped over her figure, the cloth a dusky yellow bordered with gold embroidery. The overall effect was breathtaking and without thinking, Alex felt his body lower itself until he once again knelt at her feet, feeling as though he was in a dream. Still watching the woman, he addressed Mira.
Not a few people can begin a story with a running start, but most ran out of air before the story is over. Let's see where this goes 
